


Surrender

by sandyfin



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: F/M, almost detective eddie, future Jamko, married Jamko, sergeant jamie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandyfin/pseuds/sandyfin
Summary: A year after their wedding, Eddie remains a beat cop at the 29th Precinct under Jamie's close supervision. But when Jamie makes a judgment call that has unexpected consequences, he and Eddie enter a dangerous spiral that forces them to relearn how to navigate the murky waters of professional and personal relationships before their entire reality turns upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Janko! What’re you doing? I don’t care, drop it, we’ve gotta go.”

Jamie looks up in time to see Eddie and her partner walking in, both supporting the cuffed perp who stumbles between them. His gut clenches when he sees who calls for her attention from down the hall.

“What?” Eddie calls. “Frasier, what’s going on?”

“Caught a break in the Amsterdam case,” pants Frasier, the detective who’s taken Eddie under his wing these last few months. “A couple of uniforms in the three-two found a car that matches the description and the partial plate. Come on!”

Eddie turns to her temporary partner, a rookie named Knobloch. “Oh God, I’m sorry -- do you mind--?”

“Hey, no, I’ve got this. Go!” Knobloch urges.

“Okay -- okay, thanks. Great work out there!” Eddie offers an encouraging slap to Knobloch’s shoulder and leaves him with their perp, falling into step with Frasier. The pair is making a quick beeline for the door when Jamie sidesteps in front of them to cut off their path.

“Where are you headed, Officer Janko?” he asks.

“Up to the three-two--” Frasier starts.

“To check out a car we think is related to the Amsterdam assaults,” Eddie cuts in.

“What about that collar you just brought in?”

“What? Oh, Knobloch’s got it. ‘Scuse us Sarge, we really gotta go--”

Jamie’s eyebrows inch towards his hairline. “Janko, as his acting TO, you can’t just leave him to write up a felony collar by himself.”

“Sarge, come on, Janko’s the one who caught the partial plate in the first place,” Frasier argues. “I need her on this.”

“I’ll look over Knobloch’s paperwork later!” Eddie promises.

“Sorry, it’s a no-go,” Jamie says.

“Sarge--”

“Frasier, take Blair with you if you need someone. Janko, get back to your rookie.”

“Jamie!” Eddie hisses, but Jamie cuts her off with a sharp look and leaves her no choice but to return to Knobloch at the desk behind them.

“Sorry Janko,” Frasier shrugs. “Blair! Let’s go, we’re gonna go catch the Amsterdam perps.”

The knot in Jamie’s stomach doesn’t ease up until he’s sure that Frasier and Blair have taken off, leaving Eddie safely behind. The brutal assaults along Amsterdam Avenue have gone on for months, and the perps are armed and dangerous -- Frasier’s partner, who hasn’t come back from the concussion and broken leg he suffered the last time they got close to these guys, is evidence of that. Jamie’s been uncomfortable with Eddie’s involvement in this case from the beginning and it’s just dumb luck that today he could find a legitimate reason to keep her at the house.

Half an hour later, Jamie is back in his office, poring over paperwork when Eddie storms in.

“Jamie, what is your problem?” she demands.

With a deep breath, Jamie slowly leans back into his chair and turns to face her. “Sarge,” he corrects her coolly.

Eddie groans. “ _Sarge_. You just kept me off a call I should be on to write up a collar?” she snaps. “That’s bull.”

“It’s my job to make sure you do _your_ job, Officer Janko, and that’s all I was doing.”

“I was doing my job. I’ve been on that case for _months_!”

“Chasing a promotion at the expense of your regular duties? That’s not your job.”

“Neither is babysitting a rookie cop,” Eddie retorts.

“Actually, it is, as Officer Knobloch’s acting TO. You accepted the assignment and you have to follow through. Do you want to be a TO, or do you want to be a detective?”

“I’ve been working towards my gold shield, Sarge, how do you think I’m going to answer that question? I only took Knobloch as a favor to you. To help _you_ out while Reynolds is out with the gallbladder thing. And this is how you repay me? Keep me off a call I deserve to be on?”

“If you can’t handle being a substitute TO for four days, maybe you can’t handle the responsibility of being a detective full-time,” Jamie says evenly. “We all have to make sacrifices, Janko.”

“Oh, my God,” she mutters. Jamie has hunched over his desk once more but in his peripheral vision he can see Eddie’s hands planted defiantly on her hips, head tipped towards the ceiling as she blows out an indignant breath.

“Look, it’s no big deal. If they get the guy, I’m sure Frasier will loop you in on the interrogation,” Jamie offers. “Did you hand in the paperwork on that collar yet?”

“I’m the one who tracked down the partial plate,” Eddie says, her voice low and sharp. “I should be on that call.”

Jamie doesn’t look up as she stalks off but he can practically feel the anger radiating off her. It’s like this more and more at work lately, as Eddie has tried to split her time between fulfilling her beat cop duties and sucking up to Frasier and the other detectives in the hopes of earning her gold shield.

He bets that tonight, at home, she’ll once again suggest that it’s time for her to transfer. Frasier could hook her up with a rabbi at his former precinct and she’d be on the fast track to promotion. What was it she’d said last time they had this fight? She wanted to be _out from under Jamie’s thumb_? That this separation-of-church-and-state bullshit wasn’t working?

But to him, their arrangement is perfect. He gets to supervise her at work, keep track of her and make sure she doesn’t make any questionable decisions. And he doesn’t have to admit that maybe the IAB review panel was right, when after their wedding they advised the couple to split up professionally despite their begrudging permission for Eddie to remain at the 2-9. Eddie needs to accept that Jamie’s shadow is the safest place for her within the department -- that he makes these decisions for her own good.

She’s always struggled with that idea. But they’re working on it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sarge is a real piece of work, huh?” 

Eddie blinks away her distraction and glances at Knobloch from the passenger seat. “He is today.” 

“Sorry you got yanked off that call because of me,” Knobloch continues. “I could’ve done the writeup myself.” 

“I know that. Sarge knows that too, he’s just…” Eddie sighs. She refuses on principle to talk shit about her husband to other officers, although today the opportunity to vent is tempting. “A real piece of work. It’s not your fault.” 

“I know you didn’t want to fill in for my TO--”

“No, I’m happy to do it,” Eddie insists. “You’re a good cop, Knobloch.” 

Really, she’s certain that if it wasn’t for Knobloch, Jamie would’ve come up with some other excuse to keep her off that call. Jamie’s become gradually more controlling of her life at work ever since they were cleared to remain at the same precinct last year. Sometimes she wonders if he’s aware of his own bias. 

The radio crackles to life. “All units, we have shots fired, ten-thirteen, officer down. All available units proceed to 130th and Lenox--” 

“That’s out of our precinct,” Knobloch notes, frowning. 

“Go,” Eddie orders. She keys her mic to tell dispatch that they’re responding, then flips on the siren as Knobloch speeds away. 

***

Though her view of the door is blocked by the sea of blue uniforms standing around her, Eddie knows the exact moment that the brass arrives. The murmur of respectfully hushed conversation ceases immediately, leaving a thick, nauseating silence to settle over the hospital waiting room. 

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wedges her heels against the lip of her chair to keep herself in a tiny ball. She wonders if they’ve heard yet, the bosses. Word spread around the beat cop ranks quickly even though nobody has come out to offer an official update. 

Two cops and one of two perps were shot. By the time Eddie and Knobloch reached the scene, the initial excitement had given way to frantic emergency response efforts and they quickly rerouted to the hospital.  One of the officers, a detective who’d responded from the 3-2, died on impact. The other, Blair -- rumor has it he took a bullet to the leg -- is back in a trauma bay right now, or maybe already in surgery. 

Jason Blair. Who went on the call instead of Eddie, on Jamie’s order. 

_ Sick to her stomach _ doesn’t begin to cover Eddie’s feelings right now. 

It should have been her. 

She has no idea how much time passes -- maybe ten minutes, maybe four hours -- when there’s a sudden stir of activity off to one side. Glancing up, she realizes someone has come out to give an update on Blair’s condition. She glares at the back of Jamie’s head as he nods at whatever he’s hearing. Next to him, a head and shoulders taller, Frank Reagan’s imposing figure blocks Eddie’s view of the nurse they’re talking to. 

After a moment, the door there opens and the nurse disappears. Frank, Jamie, and the two other bosses turn away. Immediately Garrett Moore is on Frank’s heels, separating him from the others who circle up, their voices inaudible across the room.

Eddie’s stomach lurches. She desperately grabs for something, anything, and ends up with a small empty coffee cup from the end table next to her. Doubled over, she vomits into it and someone shoves a trashcan between her knees just before wave after wave overtakes her. 

“Janko, you good?” someone asks, and without looking up she feels several officers close in around her. She’s not claustrophobic but this must be what that feels like -- there’s no air in here, and her chest is tight, and her skin prickles, and it’s all too much. 

“Eddie, you oughta get out of here--” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Should we get her a doctor?” 

The voices around her swim in her ears as she shudders and gags again, but nothing more can come up. Still leaning forward, she fruitlessly tries to smooth back the sweaty wisps of hair loose around her face. A half-empty bottle of water appears under her face and she takes a swig to rinse her mouth before spitting into the trashcan. 

“I’m fine,” she insists, her words sounding stronger than she feels. “All good, you guys. Must’ve had a bad bean burrito for lunch.” 

“You should go home, Eddie,” her usual partner, Rachel Witten, says softly. “Come on, I’ll get you there. They’ll hold down the fort for us. Right guys?” 

A chorus of voices assures Eddie they’ll be fine, she should leave. Acquiescing, Eddie lets Rachel tug her up by the elbow. 

“Knobloch, tell Sarge when you get a chance, okay?” Rachel says. “Keep us updated, guys. Hang in there. Here we go, Eddie. Let’s get you home.” 


	3. Chapter 3

_Blair is alive_. _Surgery successful. In ICU now._

The word comes through later that night, as Eddie paces restlessly across the small apartment. It should be a relief, and it is, but only a little. The heavy, tangled weight below her ribs still doesn’t go away.

_It should have been her_.

Maybe she would’ve been shot. Maybe she wouldn’t. But if she’d gone on the call, things would be _different_. Jason Blair would be safe at home with his fiancee and their one-year-old, for sure. Maybe Detective Hamels from the 3-2 would still be alive.

Eddie’s not naive enough to think she could have truly, intentionally, affected the outcome of the incident if she and Blair had switched places. But she also knows that sometimes, a small adjustment changes everything. She’s shorter than Blair -- maybe the bullet would’ve hit her vest instead of her leg. She moves differently -- maybe she wouldn’t have been in that spot at all, maybe she would’ve drawn the perps’ attention in a different way, maybe Hamels would’ve seen it coming.

Different. If she had done something different. If she insisted on going with Frasier, if she’d caused a scene, if she’d straight up ignored Jamie’s orders and walked to the car anyway--

The sound of a key turning in the front door nearly sends her grabbing for her gun before she realizes it’s just Jamie.

“Blair’s gonna be fine,” Jamie announces as he sweeps in. “Lost a lot of blood, and he has some pretty severe muscle damage. It’ll take some time but the docs expect a full recovery.”

“Well thank God for that,” Eddie says flatly.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, oblivious as he rolls his shoulders in a stretch and sighs with the release. “Long day. The kind I hoped I’d never encounter as a boss.”

Eddie hums an absent acknowledgment.

“Big loss for the department, Detective Hamels. Dad was talking to her husband when I left.” Jamie drops to the leather couch and presses his palms against his eyes. When he moves his hands it’s like he notices Eddie for the first time since coming home, and he frowns in concern. “Hey, Eddie. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she mutters.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“You’re not the only one who had a rough day,” she states.

“Well yeah, the whole department is—”

“This isn’t about the whole department. I was supposed to be at that scene.”

Jamie nods, his lips pressed together in a solemn thin line. “Yeah. It was a close one. Good thing you weren’t.”

“Good thing?” she cries, her own shrill voice grating at her ears. “Jamie, if you hadn’t kept me off—”

“Let’s not get hysterical about the what-ifs, alright? We both made it home tonight and that’s what matters.”

“That’s what matters. So Jason’s fiancée, at the hospital deciding if she should let their little boy visit his daddy in a hospital bed, with all the scary noises and machines — that doesn’t matter?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I — what are you getting at?” he asks tiredly.

“He almost got killed today, Jamie. You chose to send him out in the line of fire and now, who knows? Even if he recovers will he ever walk a beat again? Will he get to play with his kid, I don’t know, coach his football team? Maybe not. Yeah, he’s alive, but all of that could be over for him. And that’s on you.”

She doesn’t realize she’s trembling until she runs out of breath and her chest deflates. She lets herself lean her thigh against the arm of the sofa, a grounding pressure, her arms crossed over her chest as she stands there to hear his response.

His head falls back against the couch cushion, eyelids fluttering dismissively. He clearly hopes she’ll go away but she holds her gaze on him, a challenge he can’t ignore. So he picks up his head and meets her eyes.

“Eddie, I won’t talk about this right now,” he tells her. “You’re not thinking. You need to decompress. We’ll go over to my dad’s tom—”

“I’m gonna shower,” she cuts him off. “And then go to bed. Before you have the chance to say anything you’ll _regret_.”

“Wh—are you going to make dinner?” Jamie stutters.

“Mmm, no,” she shrugs after an insincere hum of consideration. “You’ll have to handle it yourself, Sarge. I need to be alone for a while. It’s like you said — gotta _decompress_.”

She turns on her heel and feels his wordless gaze hot on her back as she retreats to the bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anybody gets any Wrong Ideas, I’m not here for a Danny/Baez ship, y’all. Baez is an angel in this trashcan show and she deserves much better than the Reagan family. So she needed to join us for a chapter but there’s nothing to Read Into beyond that, mmkay?

“Where’s your wife, kid?” Danny asks, looking up as Jamie makes his way back to where Erin, Danny, and Baez wait for Frank and Henry to finish up with the small crowd at the front of the church. 

“She’s ah, she’s not coming to lunch,” Jamie replies. 

“Why not?” Erin wonders. “Does she know this is as important as Sunday dinner?” 

“ _ More _ important,” Danny amends. 

Jamie could easily feed his family a small lie and tell them Eddie doesn’t feel well or something. She’d probably appreciate his covering for her. But he’s not feeling generous towards her after three tense, awkward days capped now by Eddie’s questionable behavior this morning — first choosing to sit with the rank and file during Hamels’s funeral rather than close to the front with the bosses as Jamie’s wife, and then just now, when she informed him she’ll be skipping the Reagans’ customary post-funeral lunch in favor of heading home alone. 

“Don’t know,” he offers simply. 

“She doing okay?” Baez says. “She’s worked on that Amsterdam case some, right? Did she know Collette Hamels?” 

“They might’ve crossed paths, I guess.” 

“Dad and Pop won’t be happy,” Erin notes. 

“I’m not exactly thrilled either,” Jamie mutters. 

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise?” 

Baez shoots her partner a warning look. “Danny.” 

“Rough few days since the shooting,” Jamie says. “I’m not sure what it is about this one that’s got her so worked up.” 

“Eh, you said she might’ve known Hamels, and that guy from your house took a bullet too. That’s hard for anyone,” Danny shrugs. 

“I guess. I thought the funeral would, I don’t know, snap her out of it so she can move on.” 

“She’s always been pretty… emotional,” Erin remarks. 

“Yeah, she didn’t grow up around the job like we did,” Danny says. “This part of being a cop, it takes some getting used to.” 

Erin rolls her eyes. “She’s been with the NYPD for seven years, she should be  _ used to it _ by now.” 

“Hey, I’ve never really gotten used to it,” Baez says. “Especially when it’s someone I knew. Maybe cut her some slack.” 

Erin purses her lips in disapproval. “We’re Reagans. Nobody cuts us any slack.” 

Jamie doesn’t respond, lost in thought about the last few days. Eddie has been quiet and distant at home, and civil at work. He gets the trauma that inevitably follows any tragedy like this but has no idea why Eddie’s anger is directed at him. He’s been leaving her alone for the most part, hoping today’s funeral would bring her some closure so they could get back to normal. But clearly that’s not the case. 

Finally Frank and Henry manage to slip away, joining the little group seated off to the side.

“Everybody ready?” Frank says, his voice gravelly and stoic after the emotional morning. “My detail’s out front, sandwiches from Puccio’s Deli should be on their way.” 

“Where’s Eddie?” Henry asks. 

“She isn’t coming to lunch,” Erin informs them. 

Frank raises his eyebrows at Jamie. “Oh. Everything okay?” 

“Not really,” Jamie says. 

His father exhales into his mustache with a small nod before turning. “Detective Baez. Will you be joining us?” 

“Oh, no sir, thanks but—”

“Nonsense. No Eddie, so there’s a seat for you in the car,” Henry says. “We won’t take no for an answer.”

Baez chuckles amicably. “Well alright then. Thank you, sir.” 

“Henry. None of this ‘sir’ business…” 

Frank falls back to walk with Jamie as the group heads for the cars. “I’m going to ask you again. Is everything alright?” 

“I think Eddie’s just having a hard time with all this. She’d worked with Hamels some, I think, on the Amsterdam assaults.”

“And she knows Jason Blair too, no doubt,” Frank speculates. 

“Yeah, I mean, she’s seen him around the precinct.” 

“Two different cops, two different precincts, even different ranks — not a whole lot of people know, or knew, both of them personally. So it’s been as hard a week for her as it’s been for anyone else. Harder, even.” 

“Seems like it.” 

Frank regards Jamie with a stern, solemn gaze that makes Jamie cringe as much as it did when he saw that look as a kid. “These situations are tough to handle as a sergeant, son, but they can be even tougher on a marriage. Don’t forget to take care of your wife.” 

Reaching the car, Jamie climbs into the back row and tries not to roll his eyes at his father’s vague advice. Take care of his wife? How’s he supposed to do that when she won’t even say more than two words to him? If she won’t talk to him, it’s out of his hands. He’s better off focusing on the precinct, where his efforts are at least recognized and respected. 

He pulls out his phone anyway and navigates to his text conversation with Eddie. Their last exchange was the day before the shooting, when he’d asked Eddie to stop for toilet paper and eggs on her way home. She’d replied with a thumbs-up, but then bought the wrong kind of TP -- the fancy, quilted shit double the price the bargain kind that does the same damn job. But he forces away that rekindled irritation and types out a message. 

**_Jamie:_ ** _ Are you ok?   _

Eddie’s reply doesn’t come until an hour later, as Jamie finishes his roast beef sandwich amid grave conversation about the manhunt for the remaining assault suspect. 

**_Eddie:_ ** _ Fine _

He waits to respond to that compelling reply until dinner winds down.

**_Jamie:_ ** _ What’s going on with you?  _

**_Eddie:_ ** _ I told you. I’m just not up for dealing with your family today  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ Why not? _

**_Eddie:_** _Not over text_

**_Eddie:_ ** _ When will you be home?  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ Heading in to the 29 in a few. Hopefully it’ll only be a couple hours… home by 6p  _

**_Eddie:_ ** _ Seriously?  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ What?  _

**_Eddie:_ ** _ You’re going to work?  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ Yes  _

**_Eddie:_ ** _ I thought you were taking the whole day off? _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ Change of plans, too much to catch up on _

**_Eddie:_ ** _ K  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ What?  _ He resists the urge to add an eye roll emoji.

**_Eddie:_ ** _ Some notice would have been nice. _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ You would have known if you came to lunch. _

**_Eddie:_ ** _ You could have told me at the church  _

He doesn’t have an excuse for that so he simply chooses not to reply. 

Lunch cleanup was quick today, just throwing out the sandwich paper, so he’s escaped that entire chore and he emerges from the sunroom just as Baez is saying her goodbyes. He nods in response to her wave to him when she ducks out. 

“Where’d you get off to?” Danny wonders. “What, you had to take a dump right when it’s time to clean up?” 

“No, I was checking on Eddie,” Jamie snaps. 

“Oh yeah? She doing any better?” 

“I don’t know, she won’t talk to me.” 

“Well did you try to talk to her?” 

“Yeah, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it over text--” 

“So you’re gonna go talk to her for real right? Like, now?” 

“Yeah, after I finish things up at the two-nine--” 

“Jamie,” Danny groans. 

“Give it a rest, Danny. I can handle my own business.” 

Danny raises his palms, a gesture of surrender. “Just looking out for my little brother.” 

“Well don’t, okay? I have work to do and I’m going. I’ll see you on Sunday.” And wrenching the front door open, he steps out into the humid afternoon. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Are we going to talk about this?” 

Eddie pauses at the kitchen counter, her back still to Jamie for a long moment before she turns around with crossed arms. “I don’t know Jamie, are we?” 

He rolls his eyes out of her view as he locks the front door behind him. “Sure seems like you’ve been waiting for a chance to get whatever it is off your chest. Well here’s your opportunity. So talk.” 

“ _ Whatever it is? _ ” Eddie snaps. “You’re telling me you really don’t know?” 

“I know two cops got shot. I know that’s hard for everyone in the department. I don’t know why you’re taking it so personally. Did — did you even know Detective Hamels that well?” 

Eddie’s head drops to one side, the scowl on her face informing Jamie that he was off the mark. “You think this is about Detective Hamels?”

“How am I supposed to know what it’s about if you won’t tell me? God, I’m not a mind reader, Eddie.” 

A strangled groan escapes Eddie’s chest and she shakes her head as she turns back to the counter, resuming her food preparation. 

“Eddie—” Jamie tries again. 

“I’m making stir-fry,” she informs him calmly, and Jamie knows she decided on that meal for herself because he doesn’t like it. “You can make whatever you want.” 

“Real mature of you,” he mutters, passing behind her to head for the bedroom. 

Eddie’s knife stills. “I’m sorry?” 

“You heard me.” 

“So you’re calling me immature, but you’re the one who pulled me off a call… why, exactly? Because it’s up to you to manage my career? Because you can’t handle it when you’re not in control of me?” 

“You know why I didn’t let you go. You had other responsibilities. That’s all.” 

“No, that’s not  _ all _ .” She spits the words like venom. “You thought it was too dangerous.” 

“Well look what happened!” he cries. 

“So? You had no right to keep me off that call.” 

“I saved your life by keeping you off that call!”

Eddie’s chest expands with a deep breath that she holds for a beat before she blows it out, slowly. She looks remarkably calm compared to how Jamie feels - so worked up that he can feel his pulse bounding in his throat. 

“So is that it?” Eddie finally asks. “You made me stay at the house because you thought it was too dangerous for me to go and  _ do my job _ ?” 

“No, but I—”

“You can’t handle it that I’m a cop?”

“Eddie—”

“Because that’s part of the deal and you know it. And this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this. It’s been an issue since we got married. Maybe even before.” 

“It’s never been an issue,” Jamie argues. 

“When is the last time you assigned Witten and me to a high-crime sector of the precinct? A sector where we’d see some action?” 

“What? That’s ridiculous.” 

“And you’ve been interfering constantly, ever since I started getting in with the detectives.” 

“Because you’re not a detective! You have to fulfill your own duties before you go chasing a shield—”

“You’re so full of shit!” Eddie exclaims, her voice rising now. “You have an excuse for everything. Maybe you can convince yourself that it’s all legit, but I see right through it.” 

“You see right through what? Me looking out for you? Trying to keep you safe?” 

“That’s not your job!” Eddie snaps. “As my husband, sure. But at work you’re my sergeant and you can’t mix up those roles. It’s not working, Jamie — clearly you can’t handle this arrangement.” 

“You know what I can’t handle?” Jamie feels muscles bulging from the effort of controlling his volume, but the words come out loud and tight anyway. “I can’t handle the thought of that being you someday! Brought in on a stretcher with a bullet in your leg. Or your  _ head _ . I don’t get to have your back out there anymore, Eddie, that’s what I can’t handle.” 

Eddie lets out an incredulous scoff. “That’s not what you told IAB.” 

“Well IAB wouldn’t be the one getting that phone call if something happens to you, so I don’t really care what they think.” 

“I do care, Jamie. You’re interfering with my career and that’s unacceptable.” 

“Interfering with your career?” He echoes. “You should be thanking me that you’re alive and well to have a career at all.” 

“Oh, my God,” Eddie mutters, her head falling forward in boneless disbelief before she straightens back up to challenge his hard gaze. “I cannot believe you.” 

“I’m just saying. There are worse things than having a night watchman on your side. It’s a cruel world out there, Eddie.” 

“Don’t you think I know that? Jamie, I watched an officer die my first night on the job. If I didn’t know what I was getting into then, I sure as hell learned fast. Does it scare me sometimes? Sure. I don’t want to go out and get shot. But the only thing worse than it happening to me is knowing it happened to somebody else.” 

“It’s not your fault Blair took a bullet,” Jamie sighs. 

“No, it’s not. It’s yours.” 

He has to look away from the steely blue of her eyes before she bores into his skin.

“I’ll submit my transfer request in the morning,”  she says. 

“What? No,” Jamie exclaims. “I won’t sign off on it.” 

“You can be my sergeant or my husband, but not both.” 

“Eddie, it’s fine — everything has worked out fine until now. We have permission from the department. There’s no need to—”

“You admitted yourself, you can’t stay objective. So it’s not fine. If you won’t sign off, I’ll go straight to the lieutenant. Or IAB. Hell, I eat dinner with the Commissioner every week. I will not work another shift at the 2-9.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a small time jump here as we check in with our favorite couple following Eddie's transfer out of the 2-9. Language warning applies. Enjoy!

“Hey Janko, you want to hit up Rudy’s with us? It’s wing night.” 

Eddie wrestles her head out the neck of her black t-shirt before she answers, “No, sorry Ashley, I’m busy tonight.” 

“You’re busy every night,” someone else -- sounds like Daniela Holt -- calls from the adjacent bay of lockers. “Can’t you do something fun just once?” 

“Girl, you’ve been talking up your darts game for a month but we ain’t ever seen you play.” 

“I just -- can’t be that flexible at the last minute,” Eddie offers apologetically. “But next week? If I plan ahead I can make it happen.” 

“Travis and I are on midnights next week,” Ashley complains. 

“Well hey, another time. We’ll make it work,” Eddie promises. She’s finished packing up and she slings her bag over her shoulder. “Have fun tonight. But not too much fun.” 

The women of the 8th precinct keep teasing as Eddie heads down the hall and out of earshot. She knows they aren’t being mean -- it took them a little time to get comfortable around her, knowing her connection to the PC but now, nearly two months into her new assignment, they’ve eased into a friendly camaraderie like Eddie hasn’t experienced since her early days off probation at the 12th. 

She wonders if the adjustment would’ve been even quicker if she didn’t have to turn down most of their invitations for a drink or a bite to eat after work. But after two nights getting home late last month, even though she texted Jamie to let him know her plans, he made it clear that things like fun and friendship with her new coworkers are unacceptable. 

It turns out a lot of things are  _ unacceptable _ for a Reagan bride. 

Eddie has tried to mostly ignore Jamie’s undercutting remarks, petty shit ranging from negative comments about the 8th Precinct’s leadership to tired warnings about her vulnerability as a Reagan in the NYPD. She knows she hurt him by insisting on a new precinct, and while she refuses to apologize -- it was the right move, and she’s honestly not sure why she waited so long to make it -- she is trying to be considerate of Jamie’s feelings in the aftermath. 

Their mailbox in the lobby is already empty, so she knows Jamie has beat her home as she climbs to their fourth floor walkup. The exertion is just enough to let her ignore the shift in mood after a good day at work, to quell the slight dread she feels at the prospect of another frosty, impersonal evening with her husband. 

“Hello?” she calls out as cheerfully as she can manage when she keys her way inside. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hey you.” Pausing in the entryway, she reaches down to unzip her boots. When she straightens up once more Jamie has rounded the corner and he peers down at her with an unreadable expression. 

“How was your day, babe?” Eddie asks. Then, as an irritated twitch draws his eyebrows together, “Something wrong?” 

“I thought you’d be home by four.” 

“It’s--” she glances at her watch “--twenty after.” 

“I know.”

She frowns at him, a silent question as she moves further into the apartment. 

“You could’ve let me know, Eddie.”

“I’m… sorry?” she says. “I was finishing up a report, and then chatting for a minute. When am I ever home right at four?” 

“You’re not usually  _ this _ late.” 

“Late for what?” Her eyes widen as she genuinely wonders. “Did we have plans tonight?” 

“I didn’t realize we needed to have plans for you to let me know when you’re running later than normal.” 

“What? I’m -- I’m hardly late! Ten, fifteen minutes, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Excuse me for wanting to spend time with my wife,” he snaps. 

Eddie can’t hold in the bitter chuckle that escapes from her throat. “You didn’t want to spend time with me yesterday, when I asked if you wanted to go to the gym with me. Or the day before, when you shut yourself in the bedroom the second you got home and then yelled at me when I asked what was wrong--” 

“I didn’t yell at you.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, right. You just said--” she drops to a low impression of Jamie “-- _ Go away, Eddie, I’m not in the mood, Eddie, I’m busy, Eddie _ …” 

“Well I was--” 

“You were watching tennis. When the fuck did you start watching  _ tennis _ ? You say you don’t want me going out after work so we can spend time together, but this is the longest we’ve both been awake in the same room in three weeks.” 

Jamie shakes his head like her point is irrelevant. “Before you transferred, we had all the time we wanted. We got to be together at work all day, we had a nice routine. And now that’s all out of sync. I don’t know why you had to go and fuck everything up.” 

“So you blame me?” she verifies. 

“You’re the one who went over my head and insisted on a transfer!” he cries. “You violated chain of command.” 

“I had to. You flat out told me you wouldn’t approve the request.” 

“Which I had the authority to do! Cops have to follow procedure. Procedure exists for a reason.” He emphasizes with the chopping motion of his rigid hand as he slowly spells it out. “And as my wife you owed me the courtesy of telling me before you made that decision on your own.”

“And that’s exactly why I went straight to the lieutenant,” Eddie reminds him, defiant hands perched on her hips. “You were trying to be both my boss and my husband all the time. It wasn’t working for me, Jamie, and don’t pretend you would’ve listened to anything I had to say. I wanted to discuss it and you wrote me off. We had to separate work and home.”

“It seemed like it was working just fine from my end! It was working a hell of a lot better than this, anyway.” 

Eddie laughs ruefully. “That’s on you then, because I’m much happier now that I’m on my own at the 8th.” 

“Oh, so you’re happier being away from me most of the time?” 

“Yes! At work, yes. You were micromanaging me and it’s like you still don’t even realize it. I need to be in control of my own career, my own relationships. I need to have a part of my life that’s separate from you, separate from your family, something that’s only mine. I haven’t had that since we got engaged. So yeah, I’m happier at work since I transferred, and my only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner. But at home…”

Eddie doesn’t miss the angry clench of the muscle there at the corner of Jamie’s jaw. “Well. I’m sorry that my presence is such a problem for you.” 

“Jamie--” she sighs. “You know what I’m saying, don’t twist my words. We weren’t doing well being in the same house, and it’s both of our faults. You couldn’t move past your bias with me, I couldn’t deal with you hanging over my head. It wasn’t healthy for our marriage. But that issue is taken care of now so we need to figure out why else this isn’t working.” 

“I’ll tell you why it’s not working. You’re off in lower Manhattan putting your job and your new friends ahead of our family. Everything you do is reckless. Chasing your shield, staying late at work — transferring in the first place — it’s not all about you! Everything can’t revolve around you and what you want!” 

“What’s reckless? Me having friends who you didn’t vet first?”

“Yes!”

“Well good thing I can hardly call them friends since you don’t want me so much as hitting happy hour with them after tour.” 

“Good! You shouldn’t let them get close to you. You’ve got to keep your guard up. Your nameplate says Janko but they know who you are. They’ll try to use you Eddie, or worse. We Reagans have a target on our back and you know it.”

“The only person putting a target on my back is you.” 

“I — no — I just need you to understand what it means to be a Reagan in this department. And act like it for once.”

“Does it mean letting you dictate every single aspect of my life? Because that’s not what I signed up for. We’re supposed to be an equal partnership. I’m in a great new precinct, I’ll get my gold shield any day now, and I’ve got you waiting for me at home every night. It’s everything I want! I’ve finally found my balance, Jamie. Now we need to find yours.” 

“I was perfectly balanced at the 29th Precinct with my wife on my roll sheet,” he tells her. 

“That’s not an option. But there are other things we could do. I want to figure something out with you, Jamie. We’ll find a way to make everything work for both of us.” 

“And how do you propose we do that?” 

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Look. I know you said no to this back when I first transferred. But I really think it’s time to consider therapy.” 

“Couples therapy?” He shouts, making Eddie flinch. “That’s off the table!”

“Why?” Eddie demands. “We can’t come up with any solutions on our own! All we do lately is ignore each other and when we do talk, it’s just this same damn fight over and over.”

“Because you transferred!”

“Because you gave me no choice! I think you know I’m right about us working together, and you were wrong, and you don’t know how to deal with that like an adult. So it’s time to learn.” 

“Our problems are  _ our _ problems, Eddie, I don’t want some stranger telling us five easy steps to fix our marriage.” 

“Then what’s your suggestion? Because we both know things are broken,” Eddie says, struggling to hold her voice steady as it threatens to break. “But I — I don’t know how we can fix it.” 

“So you jump to therapy?” 

“Yeah, because we need help—”

“If our marriage is too far gone for us to handle it ourselves,” Jamie says, “then maybe it’s too far gone to be handled at all.” 

Eddie inhales sharply through her nose and she can’t disguise the alarm on her face as her mouth drops open. “What’s your solution then?” 

He narrows his eyes, a look of contempt he’s never directed at her before, and it makes her stomach lurch. 

“It’s obvious, Eddie. The only solution here is divorce.” 


	7. Chapter 7

The early morning sun on his face wrenches Jamie from a restless sleep. His head pounds, protesting the short four hours he managed to get since arriving home in the middle of the night. And his whole body aches after spending those four hours on the couch. But since he’s the one who brought up divorce, he’s the one who’s been banished to the living room.

Sitting up, he notes movement in the kitchen. Eddie’s back is to him as she pours her coffee as quietly as she can. 

When she turns she looks surprised to see him watching her. 

“Good morning,” she says coolly. “What time did you get in last night?” 

“Late.”

“Well I’m sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep. But don’t forget, we’ve got an appointment at two and I expect to see you there.” 

Jamie can’t help rolling his eyes. “Counseling? I don’t know what you think you’ll get out of that, Eddie.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, my husband back?” she snaps. 

He groans but doesn’t try to argue that he’s the one who’s been here the whole time — it was Eddie who transferred, who gave up on everything in the first place—

“I want to give us one more chance, Jamie,” she adds softly. “I want to do everything we possibly can to make us work. But this — this is it. Okay?” 

“Where is the office again?” He sighs. 

“Bergen and Court.” 

He nods as he tries to rub the exhaustion from his face. 

“This is really important,” she says, gathering her purse and keys. “I’ll see you at two.” 

He says nothing as she sweeps out the door. 

He waits a few minutes, partly to ensure that she’s really gone and partly because that’s how long it takes him to work up the energy to move. 

It’s been his routine these last few days, since he’s been working late while Eddie’s on days. The decorative sheer curtains in the living room aren’t conducive to daytime sleeping so once she leaves, he sneaks into the bedroom to enjoy a few hours of actual rest, courtesy of their memory foam mattress and blackout drapes. 

At least now he’s been getting a few hours a day in a bed. 

He spent two nights at his dad’s house after that big fight, claiming the need to cool off. But it didn’t take long for Frank and Henry’s nagging to get to him and he went home. For a week, while he and Eddie were on the same schedule, it was nothing but the couch for him. So his switch to swing shift, and half a day of a real bed, was actually a welcome change for once. 

Working different shifts also means less time having to awkwardly coexist in the same space as his wife. After he blew off the meeting Eddie scheduled with the counseling priest at church last week, that’s a good thing too. 

After the missed session, while she yelled at him, he claimed he didn’t feel comfortable going before a priest with their relationship problems. Really, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that couples counseling is probably a good idea — maybe even the only real shot they have at getting back on track. Because admitting she’s right is the same as admitting that he was wrong. And he refuses to be wrong. 

He didn’t expect her to turn right around and get them in to see a secular marriage counselor.

He’s not sure yet what he’ll do about that. But he’s got a few hours to decide. So he drags the couch throw blanket into the bedroom, lays down on top of the covers, and lets the cool darkness drag him into sleep. 

***

This time it’s not the sun, but his buzzing phone that wakes him up. 

**_Eddie_ ** _ : Appointment at 2. It’s just a short intake meeting. Don’t forget.  _

The next message is a maps link to the therapy office, followed by another text bubble. 

**_Eddie_ ** _ : Please come, Jamie. I love you. I want to work things out. We’re pretty fucked up but we can fix it. But it has to be a team effort. If you can’t do that then I’m done. Don’t make me make that choice.  _

With a sigh he tosses his phone down on the comforter. It sounds like an ultimatum, but so has just about every other conversation they’ve had in recent weeks, maybe even months. It doesn’t scare him. He’s confident Eddie won’t follow through. He just needs to maintain the status quo until Eddie gives up her fight and things go back to normal. 

When he opens the bedroom door the smell of strong coffee hits him. Eddie must’ve set the programmable coffeemaker for him before she left. At one time those little gestures filled their bubble of newlywed bliss with appreciation and happiness. Now, for a reason he can’t quite identify, his reaction is a mix of annoyance and resentment. 

But that’s what they’ve turned into. Where there was once love, at least on his end, there’s now just this festering, destructive bitterness. When it gets intense like this — acidic, bubbling up like bile in his throat — sometimes he questions whether he ever really loved her at all. 

Maybe he only wanted Eddie because for so long he couldn’t have her. 

She was a safe, easy attraction — close enough that he could toy with her all the time, yet off limits so he always had an easy excuse to hide behind. What they had was fun and interesting, without crossing that line into anything dangerous and beyond his control.

Until they crossed that line. He recalls how quickly their dynamic changed after that morning when he dropped to one knee at the fourteenth hole of their favorite putt-putt golf course. 

Eddie hesitated. She tugged him back to his feet and held his hands as she asked, “Jamie… are you sure this is a good idea?” 

He’d given her some half-assed, adrenaline-fueled argument that they’ve been basically dating-without-benefits for nearly 5 years and what else did they need to do? With a breathy  _ Iloveyou _ and a desperate, heated kiss, he had her saying yes.

Suddenly he had a life partner, someone with expectations he needed to meet, someone with whom he was supposed to share every aspect of his life. He had no clue how to do that, and nowhere left to escape. 

Once the adrenaline melted away, the ugly foundations of their romantic relationship became visible. There was hardly anything there — friendship and professional camaraderie couldn’t bridge the gap that should have included dating and transitioning and figuring out together what it meant to be a couple. 

They found themselves with questions and even fundamental disagreements that most couples worked through before they shopped for rings and venues. Much of that went unaddressed as they barreled headfirst into the rest of their lives. They were bulletproof.

But Kevlar doesn’t protect against threats from within. 

At the kitchen counter, Jamie lifts the full carafe from the machine and empties it into the sink. 


End file.
